Occupational Hazards
by GoblinQueeen
Summary: Re-edited and I hope a little better for it :) Takes place near the end of WWI. A young(er)? Rick O'Connell of the Foreign Legion is teamed up with a woman, Hannah Leone, to retrieve some missing doccuments. See profile for illustrations :)
1. Services Rendered

*Disclaimer: The following is a work of pure fiction based off the Universal Pictures film, 'The Mummy'. All copyrights belong to them as well as the character of Rick O'Connell. All other characters are the creation of the author. It is rated PG-13 for languge, violence, and some implied sexual situations.*  
  
  
  
New Author's Note: Well, as I said in the original author's note, this was my very first attempt at writing a fan fic and well, writing in general really :) I reread it as I was about to pick up another fic that takes place after this one and it struck me that my writing really has improved (I hope) since I wrote this almost a year ago. But then, that's one of the wonderful things about computers: you can go back, and change things :) So here it is, 'Occupational Hazards : the Second Edition'  
  
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Original Author's Note: This all started as a character for an RPG, Hannah Leone, a kind of special agent for the Foreign Legion. In trying to work out her backstory, especially her history with O'Connell, it just kept getting more and more elaborate until it became a whole story in and of itself. Since this started from an RPG, there are certain elements of Rick's character that come directly from PrincessZeldaBelle's writing of him. This is also not based on historical events in the strict sense. The gereral campaign movements described are based on information from WWI, but the specific events described never happened, at least, not that I or anyone else knows :) Also, I would hope it would go without saying, but there is no offense intended towards anyone of German desent, but in this particular war, the French (and thereby, the French Foreign Legion) were fighting against Germany and several other nations. At any rate, I do hope you enjoy it, or can at least fight off boredom :)  
  
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"Just leave the money on the bureau on your way out," Hannah tossed nonchalantly over her shoulder in an undiscernible accent that hung like smoke in the room. She finished knotting the ties of her bodice and moved to a small mirror nailed on the wall of her sparsely furnished room. A little annoyed, she picked up a comb, raking out the tangles from the long mess of blonde hair. Looking past her own reflection, she could see her latest customer's hands slip into the top drawer where she usually kept her very modest income.  
  
Damn Legionnaires! "I think you've got this in reverse," she smiled, folding her arms over her chest. "You pay me. If you think I'm paying you for whatever that was, you are sadly mistaken."  
  
"Maybe you should have enjoyed yourself more then," the man sneered, pulling out the small roll of paper bills.  
  
"Are you hard of hearing? I said to get your filthy hands out of there right now!" Hannah leapt at the money in his hand, but the man twisted her arm and using her own momentum against her, sent her sprawling to the ground.  
  
"I guess you're just going to have to step up business," he grinned, leaning down and taking her chin in his hand. "Here," he added, tossing a couple of coins at her as he turned to leave, "thanks for the good time."  
  
"That's it," Hannah hissed under her breath. She had taken all she was going to take from these worthless assholes. Taking aim, she threw the coins at the head of the retreating figure.  
  
"Bitch," the man cursed as the coins sounded sharply against his skull. He raised his foot to send into her face, but she ducked out of the way and grabbing hold of his boot, twisted it, throwing him off balance. As he tottered, she threw him backwards against the wall.  
  
"You want to see bitch?" she menaced, sending a foot into his stomach, "Just try that again."  
  
The man made a short groan of pain and she seized the opportunity to dive into his pocket for her money, but he took hold of her wrists and threw her up to the wall. "Looks like someone needs to learn some manners," he muttered through gritted teeth.  
  
*Far too easy,* Hannah thought to herself and seriously considered not taking advantage of the situation. Her momentary lapse into kindness lasted for about two seconds before she sent a carefully aimed knee to a very sensitive target. "Funny, I was thinking the same of you," she smirked as he staggered back in pain. He regrouped and lunged at her again, but she dodged to the side and planted her elbow into the small of his back. He hit the ground again with a sharp moan.  
  
As she stood over the crumpled form gloating, Hannah could make out the sound of heavy feet running up the stairs. "Damn," she whispered running to lock the door. One legionnaire she could handle. She doubted how long she could hold off a group of them.  
  
As she pulled her hand from the key, she felt an arm close around her throat and another pull tightly against her waist. *Shit* She tried to break away, but he held on tight with a vice like grip. God, she couldn't breath. He pulled tighter and gasping desperately for air, she clawed at his face. Her vision was starting to blur, but still, she struggled against him. Finally, with the last of her strength, she pushed with her feet against the door, sending them both careening backwards. A sharp thud hit her ear before she fell to the ground half conscious. She rolled over and saw the man lying beside her with blood seeping out in a pool around him. The large gash in his temple showed where he must have hit his head on the bureau as he fell. Had she been able, she would have laughed at the irony.  
  
Unfortunately, at that moment, the door gave way with a splintering crash. Hannah tried to scramble to her feet, but something pushed her back down flat against the ground.  
  
"Damn whore!" a voice she could not see growled. A large wad of spit ran freely down her neck.  
  
Trying to hold on to some shred of dignity, Hannah tried once more to get up, only to be rewarded with a boot into her stomach. She doubled over in pain and barely caught sight of the riffle butt before it connected with her head.  
  
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A horrible stench filled Hannah's lungs as she opened her eyes. God her head hurt. She couldn't make out anything in the darkness but the soft scurry of little feet somewhere nearby. Where ever she was, it wasn't the run down hellhole she had come to call home. Even at it's worst, the rats had known enough to stay out of sight and the stench had been limited to the occasional cheap cologne. Slowly recent events came back to her and she let her head fall back against the plaster wall. She let out an involuntary wince and tried to rub the sore spot, but found that one arm would not move independently of the other. *Great,* she thought staring at the heavy manacles, *they really mean business.*  
  
How much time passed, she couldn't say. Time really had no meaning in the pitch black, but finally the sound of metal turning inside of metal drew her attention. She recoiled as light poured inside and the outline of a tall man appeared in place of the heavy wooden door.  
  
"Good, you're awake," the man said as the door closed behind him. After a short cough, he added, "Now, would you mind telling me why you felt the need to nearly kill one of my men?"  
  
"So he's not dead?" Hannah queried in an ambiguous tone. She really wasn't sure how she felt about it.  
  
"No, he'll live," the man answered, either oblivious to her mixed emotions or ignoring them. "Though there was a while when we weren't sure. Now, would you like to answer my question, or shall I give you some time to think it over."  
  
"It doesn't really matter, anyway, does it?" Hannah asked in a detached voice. "They are going to hang me, aren't they?"  
  
She almost thought she saw something like the trace of a grin in the other's face. "Yes," he nodded at last, "they do want to hang you. Can you blame them?"  
  
"Blame is a funny thing," she answered looking away. "Anyone can blame someone for something. If you ask me, people waste far too much time trying to place blame."  
  
"Quite right," the man laughed. "Though there are thousands of men out there in the trenches that might argue with you on that one."  
  
"Did you just come here to talk philosophy?" she snapped a bit on edge. Somehow, his cheery attitude didn't suit her at the moment.  
  
"No, no I didn't," he said stroking his chin. Again, she thought she saw the slight flicker of a grin. "I am assuming you would prefer not to be hung?"  
  
Hannah looked up at him suspiciously. "Actually, I thought it sounded like a lot of fun," she muttered sweetly, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "What is this? Some kind of game? Of course I would 'prefer' not to."  
  
The man turned from her, again tactfully ignoring her curt attitude. "As I said, there is a whole war going on right now and before you say it doesn't concern you, it does. The fate of the entire world is hanging in the balance on this one. The Suez canal is key to the allied effort, without it, it will be virtually impossible to transport supplies or troops."  
  
"I'm sure it is," Hannah said carefully, "so what does it have to do with me?"  
  
"A few days ago, some important communications were ... removed from our Embassy and are on their way to the central offices in Germany. From there, they will be delivered to the Turkish army and the Suez Canal could very well fall into their hands."  
  
It was Hannah's turn to smile. "Looks like you guys really slipped up, doesn't it?"  
  
A cough was her response. "The man who took the papers has to return to France first before heading to Berlin. We were able to block the sea routes and he was forced to go to Morocco and up through Spain. If we act quickly, we can try to intercept him in Grenoble."  
  
"Again," Hannah sighed disinterestedly, examining her nails, "all this is wonderful, but why are you telling it to me?"  
  
"I need someone this man won't know. Unsuspicious, resourceful, and capable of defending themselves if the need arises. Besides," he paused grinning again, "if you were caught, there is precious little information you could give them."  
  
"Hold on, you want me to go after this guy?" Hannah asked somewhat bewildered. This was not exactly what she had expected.  
  
"Unless you had other plans," the man shrugged.  
  
"You think you are so damn cleaver, don't you?" Hannah spat out.  
  
"Of course, if you would rather stay here and be hung," he said turning to go, "I just thought I'd offer you a fighting chance."  
  
"So I do this," Hannah said carefully, restraining her frustration, "I get to go on my way?"  
  
"Well, I could certainly make the argument that we have better uses for you alive," the man smiled, turning back around to face her. "You are welcome to wait and see if you get any better offers."  
  
As much as she didn't trust him, she knew this was the only chance she had. He knew that, too, had counted on it. Hesitantly, she accepted his offered hand. He lifted her up carefully from the ground and called for the guard to open the door.  
  
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Hannah walked a little unsteadily into the Major-General's office. She had never had much use for the European style of dress and she was definitely not used to European shoes! "What possible purpose could these serve?" she muttered to herself examining the high heels.  
  
"You'd be surprised," came the response from a young man sitting in the corner of the room. He flashed a subtle grin as she once more stumbled towards a chair.  
  
Hannah's eye's floated quickly over him. Tall with chestnut bangs drifting into his face. That grin, though. Far too self-confident.  
  
"Sergeant O'Connell, Miss...what was your last name?" Major-General Renaut asked suddenly looking up from the menagerie of papers on his desk..  
  
Hannah shrugged as she sat, crossing her legs. "I really don't know, the question never came up."  
  
O'Connell's grin got wider as Renaut coughed.  
  
"Well," the general began, "I suppose we will need something." His hands began to shuffle once more through the papers, though his voice continued almost of its own accord. "It should be general enough, Jones, Smith..." but O'Connell's snickering cut him off. "You have something to add, Sergeant?" Renaut lifted an eyebrow as he peered over the document in his hand.  
  
"Sir," O'Connell sat up suddenly trying to be very serious, "no sir, it's just that, well, those don't seem to suit her very well."  
  
"And what would you suggest, Sergeant," Renaut remarked, clasping his hands on the desk in front of him, almost daring O'Connell to answer.  
  
"Well, I," O'Connell began, hesitantly.  
  
Hannah sat back and amused herself with the arrogant young man's sudden flash of discomfort. A hint of a smile played gently on her lips as O'Connell's eyes darted about the room.  
  
"How about Leone, sir?" O'Connell answered at last as he read the name off of a box of cigars behind Renaut's desk.  
  
Hannah opened her mouth to object, but Renaut nodded before she had the chance.  
  
"Leone...yes, that will do nicely," he agreed and went back to the papers.  
  
Hannah clenched her teeth and shot O'Connell a look full of all the ice that could survive in that desert climate.  
  
"Well then, Miss Leone, meet Sergeant O'Connell," Renaut smiled oblivious to what had just transpired.  
  
"Charmed," Hannah said less than enthusiastically.  
  
"The feeling is mutual," the other replied with that same arrogant grin.  
  
"Sergeant O'Connell will be joining you on your journey," Renaut added, still unaware of the veiled animosity.  
  
"Him?" Hannah choked, more than a little disconcerted. "Great. I get to be stuck with a babysitter."  
  
O'Connell raised an eyebrow at her, then turned back to Renaut, "Sir, if she would rather not have my help..."  
  
"The matter is not up for debate. You," Renaut said looking sternly at Hannah, "should be glad for anything you are given at this point, and you," he turned his attention to O'Connell, "try cooperating with someone besides yourself and don't just barge in, guns blazing." He stood and pulled yet another stack of papers out of the cabinet in the corner. Picking up a pen, he began to carefully fill in the blank spaces. "You will leave today for Toulon by ship and assuming you aren't attacked by a German u-boat, head north about 200 kilometers to Grenoble. That's where you should find our Mr. Carter. He will pass on a phony report to the embassy office there before heading to Berlin with the actual documentation." After what seemed an eternity of listening to the scratching Renaut's pen made against the cheap paper, he looked back up at the two of them. "I think we can pass you two off as brother and sister."  
  
Hannah looked a little distastefully at her new family.  
  
"Oh, come on, lil' sis, it's not that bad," O' Connell smiled halfheartedly.  
  
"Just try not to talk too much," Hannah shook her head. "I can't imagine trying to explain that horrible accent."  
  
"Oh look who's..." O'Connell started before Renaut coughed.  
  
"I would advise both of you to put your personal feelings in check. This really is of the most serious and important nature." Renaut's voice was deep and somber as he leaned across the desk, "All of our efforts up to this point could be totally wasted if those documents aren't recovered." He sighed heavily sinking into the depths of his chair. "There is a lot riding in this, do not make me regret my generosity." His eyes raised slowly to meet Hannah's.  
  
She in turn dropped her gaze. Gritting her teeth, she raised her head and looked back up at O'Connell. This was going to be far more difficult than she had bargained for, but as the major-general oh so tactfully pointed out, she really didn't have a choice in the matter. 


	2. Traveling Companions

*Disclaimer: The following is a work of pure fiction based off the Universal Pictures film, 'The Mummy'. All copyrights belong to them as well as the character of Rick O'Connell. All other characters are the creation of the author. It is rated PG-13 for languge, violence, and some implied sexual situations.*  
  
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Hannah stormed into the tiny hotel room, slamming the door behind her.  
  
"Watch it!" O'Connell exclaimed, throwing his elbow up to stop the door from going into his face.  
  
Hannah glowered at him. It had been a very long trip by boat to Toulon, or at least it had seemed that way to her. There had been a couple of times when she actually wished the Germans *had* attacked the ship. Perhaps it was a bit drastic, but it would have gotten her away from him.  
  
"Perhaps it would be easier for you to simply say out of my way," she answered at last with all the sweetness she could muster. "Far out of my way. Back in Algeria, preferably."  
  
"Are you this charming with everyone, or is it just me," O'Connell replied with a sarcastic grin.  
  
God that grin was getting on her nerves. "Will you please stop that," Hannah hissed.  
  
"Stop what?" O'Connell raised his arms, feigning innocence.  
  
"You know damn well," Hannah took a deep breath trying too hard to keep her temper in check.  
  
"You really shouldn't swear like that," O'Connell shook a condescending finger. "So unladylike, but then again..."  
  
Hannah grabbed the nearest thing at hand to throw at him, which happened to be a pillow.  
  
"Nice aim," O'Connell nodded, catching it in mid-air, "but I don't think you're going to do much damage with this. Next time, go for something with less frills," he added, fingering the laced edges.  
  
"Thanks, I will," Hannah smiled before sending her foot into his side. "Now I understand the use for these," she said, noting the damage the tall heel had done. She grinned with mild amusement as he continued to simply glare at her. "What's the matter, won't hit a lady?" she smirked.  
  
"As I said before," O'Connell muttered, grabbing her suddenly by the wrists, "good thing there isn't one of those around."  
  
Hannah ground her heel firmly into his foot, relishing the wince on his face. "Yes, I can definitely see the use for these," she nodded. Her joy was short lived however, as O'Connell tackled her at the waist. Both of them hit the floor and he sat perched on top, pinning her arms to the ground. Fuming, she struggled against him for a few moments, but it became increasingly apparent it was not going to do her any good.  
  
"Are you quite through?" O'Connell leaned in close, his bangs grazing against her face. "Hmm?" he added with a quirk of his brow, trying to meet the eyes that kept dodging his own..  
  
Hannah bit her lip and took several deep breaths. She was not used to giving up a fight.  
  
Finally, O'Connell's eyes found their target and his pale gaze met her own intense one. Almost like a hunter with a wild animal, something in his eyes made her stop fighting and turn away.  
  
"Good," O'Connell sighed after he felt her muscles relax. He still waited a second before releasing his grip and getting up.  
  
Hannah sat up and banged her fists against the wooden floor. The least he could have done was to help her up. After all, it was his fault she was down there. She watched from the ground as he fell into the couch, throwing his feet onto the table. "God damned, arrogant..." she mumbled to herself as she staggered to her feet. Finding a large chair across the room, she sank down into the cushions. After a long awkward silence, she sighed and recrossed her legs. Really, she should at least try to make the best of this situation, or at the very least, fight off boredom.  
  
"So, who exactly is this 'Mr. Carter' we are looking for?" she snapped, not coming across quite as cordial as she would have liked.  
  
"He worked at the embassy office in Algeria," O'Connell mumbled as he sat cleaning his gun. "Seemed straight forward enough, but I guess that was how he planned it. I guess it really wouldn't have worked if he had acted like a spy."  
  
"So, now that they know he is, why don't they just arrest him?" Hannah asked indignantly.  
  
"It's not that simple," O'Connell shook his head, examining the bullet chamber. Evidently satisfied, he put the gun back in its holster.  
  
Hannah raised a curious eyebrow, "Why not?"  
  
O'Connell shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine, that's just not how they work these things." He leaned back on the couch, putting his hands behind his head and resting his feet once more on the table. "Can't complain, gives me something to do."  
  
"Gives you something to do?" Hannah echoed with some astonishment. "You make it sound like a hobby to go chasing people from country to country."  
  
"I guess you could look at it like that," O'Connell smiled.  
  
"Hold on, don't tell me you actually joined the Foreign Legion by choice?" Hannah stared as the recognition sank in.  
  
"Ok, I won't," O'Connell returned with large grin.  
  
"Why on earth would anyone join the Foreign Legion willingly?" Hannah mussed, truly puzzled.  
  
"Dunno," he shrugged again, "I guess I was just looking for a good time."  
  
"Well, that's a new one," Hannah rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh, and what would you do for fun?"  
  
A slow smile crept across Hannah's face and she could almost swear she saw a slight blush through the unruly strands in O'Connell's eyes.  
  
"Well, that is," his stammering was kind of cute, in an obnoxious way. He coughed and pulled out his other gun, avoiding Hannah's amusement by focusing on cleaning it.  
  
"Are we really going to need those?" Hannah asked at last with a nod to the weaponry, gracefully changing the subject.  
  
"Somehow, I always seem to," O'Connell said casually.  
  
"Great..." Hannah sighed, folding her arms. "Why do I not feel comforted in the least?"  
  
"What?" O'Connell asked looking up, his face a total void of recognition.  
  
"Just try not to hurt yourself," she yawned, getting up. "Or more importantly, me." At least tonight she didn't have to worry about being flung from bed by tossing waves. After throwing a blanket and a pillow at O'Connell, she kicked off her shoes and took off her jacket before murmuring a quick good night and turning off the lamp.  
  
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The train ride to Grenoble was relatively uneventful. People more or less keeping to themselves, no one quite knowing what to say. It was hard to talk about the weather when there was a war going on outside. Not even the babies cried. Hannah was glad to be out of the eerie stillness once they finally reached the station.  
  
"From here on out," O'Connell whispered, "my name is Rick, got it?"  
  
"Yes, I know," Hannah snapped back.  
  
"For some reason, people seem to have a lot of trouble with that," he muttered picking up the bags.  
  
"Yes," Hannah sighed, "you are my brother, Richard Leone."  
  
"Rick," he said flatly coming to a dead stop. His fists clenched tightly about the handles of the luggage. "Not Richard, Rick."  
  
"What's the matter?" Hannah said with a cheerful smile, happy to find a sore spot in that leather hide flesh. "Don't you like the name Richard?"  
  
"No," O'Connell muttered through gritted teeth, "that's what the nuns used to call me."  
  
"Nuns?" Hannah queried.  
  
"Yeah, nuns," he said, heading outside and closing the matter.  
  
"Nuns," Hannah repeated to herself, following him out of the station.  
  
The market outside seemed like a ghost town. One could tell there had been a time when it would have been swarming with activity, but now, a few lonely flower sellers crouched in doorways, the grocers looked as depleted as their stock, and there wasn't a single piece of meat to be seen. Hannah quickened her step, following closer to Rick.  
  
"Yeah, war is hell," he murmured not so much to her as to himself.  
  
They trekked along until they came to a large stone building with a small ironwork gate around it. "Welcome to the Embassy's Grenoble office. That's where we stay," Rick said pointing to a small hotel across the way, "From there we should be able to see when he gets here."  
  
Hannah turned to look, but careened with the ground as a well dressed man leaving the Embassy collided with her.  
  
"Terribly sorry, miss, here, let me help you up," the man offered her a hand, which she took gratefully enough. He was a young man, early 20's, with well groomed sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes. He stood staring at her for a few moments before finally stammering, "So sorry about that, umm, Nathan Carter, at your service I'm afraid."  
  
Hannah's breath caught a little in her throat. She really hadn't expected to quite literally run into him like this. "It's quite all right," she said at last, "Hannah Leone."  
  
"Enchanted," he smiled, kissing her hand. "And who might your friend be over there?"  
  
"Oh," she said looking over her shoulder at Rick who had just stood there the whole time. She had a feeling it would be a cold day in hell before he helped her up off the ground. "That would be my brother, Richard."  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Richard," Nathan said offering a hand.  
  
"Call me Rick," he answered, shooting a look at Hannah who in turn, gave an innocent smile back.  
  
"Are you just coming to Grenoble?" Nathan asked, noting the bags.  
  
"Yes," Hannah chimed in, trying to think of a quick excuse. "We are on our way to visit out aunt in Lyon." She was suddenly glad she had been bored enough to read the map on the train schedule.  
  
"Do tell me you are at least spending the night," Nathan prodded and upon Hannah nodding the affirmative, he beamed, "Then you will have to allow me to make amends over dinner. Where are you staying?"  
  
O'Connell threw a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the building across the street.  
  
Nathan smiled at Hannah again, "Well then, I shall pick you up at 8 and I will not take no for an answer."  
  
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"I can't believe you are doing this," Rick shook his head, peering out the window. It was nearly 8 o'clock.  
  
"What is there to believe?" Hannah sighed, "This will give you a chance to check the Embassy and see if he has left anything there. With any luck, I can get a chance to check his room."  
  
O'Connell didn't say a word, but sent her a disapproving glare that spoke volumes more.  
  
Hannah threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh. "He seems harmless enough. I really can't see what all this fuss has been about. We'll get those documents and be on our way back to Algeria before he even realizes what happened." Taking her time, she walked over to the window where he was standing. "You'll probably even get a nice promotion out of this," she tossed out sarcastically.  
  
"Hey, maybe I'm not just concerned about what's in this for me," O'Connell shot back.  
  
"That's right," Hannah sneered. "You're in it for a *good time*."  
  
"There is something I don't trust about this guy..." O'Connell started, but Hannah cut him off.  
  
"Let's see, is it the fact that he sold out an entire country to the Germans, or," she let a hint of a grin break through, "the fact that he actually helps a person off the ground when they've fallen?"  
  
"I just don't think you should write him off so easily," Rick muttered, growing more and more frustrated. "Obviously a lot of other people have already underestimated him."  
  
"I can take care of myself, thank you," Hannah shot back. She took a definitive stance and the two of them stood there, glaring at one another, neither willing to back down. The stalemate went on for several minutes before the phone rang. Both of their hands went for the receiver, but a swift kick to Rick's shin took him out of the competition.  
  
"Hello?" Hannah answered nonchalantly, ignoring the icy look Rick gave her. "Thank you, I'll be right down." Replacing the receiver, she turned back to Rick with an equally cold look. "Just worry about not screwing up your own job."  
  
"Hey, don't you worry about me," Rick scoffed, "I'm not the one who got myself locked into this mess!" He opened the door and raising an eyebrow, pointed the way out. "You want to go, no one is stopping you."  
  
Hannah turned up her chin and pushed past him, feeling the sharp gust of air as Rick slammed the door behind her. After a moment, she heard the knob turn again and looked around just in time to catch her coat as Rick threw it at her. God, she was going to be glad when this was all over.  
  
Descending the staircase into the lobby, she found Mr. Carter standing patiently by the reception desk.  
  
"Sorry I kept you," she smiled more graciously than was generally in her nature.  
  
"Not at all," the other replied, "I hope you don't mind, most of the restaurants around here are wonderful, but they really don't have the resources right now. I'm afraid the only decent place left to eat is back at my hotel."  
  
"That's fine," Hannah replied following him out the door. "I suppose I'm more interested in the company than the food." She glanced briefly behind her, catching a quick glimpse of Rick at the window before stepping into the waiting car.  
  
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"Really?" Nathan said as he opened the door of his room for Hannah, "I never would have taken your brother for the poetic type."  
  
"Oh yes," Hannah nodded solemnly. She was having fun embarrassing O'Connell, even if he wasn't around. Oh well. She could settle for imagining the irritated look on his face. "Richard really is deeply sentimental. He once gave a reading for our mother's Ladies' Circle. There wasn't a dry eye in the room, including his own."  
  
"Well, here we are, home sweet home." Carter smiled as he switched on the light. "It's not much, but I make due. Let me get that '86 port I've been saving. Won't be a minute," he called over his shoulder.  
  
As soon as he stepped out of sight, Hannah's eyes began to dart about the room. Moving quickly, she scanned through the papers piled on the desk. No luck there. She opened a couple of the drawers, still no luck. Damn, there were literally hundreds of places where a person could hide almost anything they wanted in that room. Hearing a sound, she moved to the sideboard feigning interest in a floral arrangement as Nathan re- entered. In one hand was the bottle of port, but in the other, he held a leather satchel.  
  
"Lovely aren't they?" he said dropping the satchel into the bottom drawer of his desk and locking it. "There is a little flower shop down the street that delivers fresh ones every other day."  
  
Hannah watched intently as he slipped the key into his vest pocket.  
  
"There you are," he added, handing her a glass. "The finest you'll get around here, I'd imagine."  
  
Hannah accepted the drink gratefully and did her best to take lady- like sips. Normally, it took a lot of alcohol to get her drunk, after all, she'd had a lot of practice, but tonight she would have to swallow her pride a bit if she wanted to get into that drawer. Bitting her lip, she tossed back the rest of the drink.  
  
After a couple more glasses, she collapsed onto the couch giggling. "I really never thought a trip to my stuffy old aunt's could be so enjoyable." God she hated giggling.  
  
Nathan sat down next to her, watching her every move intently.  
  
At least it seemed to be working. He had that look about his face, like a wolf that had just found a stunned rabbit. Time to reel him in. Hannah leaned forward, slurring her words just a bit. "If anyone had told me a week ago that I would be sitting here tonight with an incredibly handsome and charming young man..." she stopped suddenly in mid sentence, pretending to be shocked at her own forwardness, "I mean...oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." She turned away and tried to blush, which wasn't easy for her.  
  
"That's quite all right," Nathan comforted, taking her head in his hands, "I don't get to hear it that often, and never from an angel such as yourself."  
  
Where did men get these lines and why on earth did they think they really worked? Hannah pushed the question out of her mind and closed her eyes as Carter leaned in, kissing her softly on the lips.  
  
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Hannah waited until she thought Nathan was asleep before sliding out of the bed. Quietly, she slipped on some clothes before retrieving the key from his vest which had been neatly hung over a chair. Barely breathing, she crept into the next room and placed the key into the lock. Soon, this would all be over and she would be heading back to Algeria. Actually, it had been kind of fun. Well, more fun than what a normal day entailed for her. Not that she was about to give O'Connell the satisfaction of knowing that.  
  
Slowly, so as not to make a sound, Hannah turned the key. The drawer slid open noiselessly and she pulled out the leather satchel. She opened the flap and immediately, her face fell as she stared at an empty bag.  
  
"Not quite what you had hoped to find, is it?"  
  
Hannah spun to face the voice and found Nathan standing in the doorway.  
  
"Oh, they were in there, but did you really expect me to give up that easily?"  
  
he added with a sneer as he turned on the light. "Where would be the fun in that?"  
  
There was a sudden coldness in his manner that Hannah found unnerving. "What is all this?" following his every move like a cat..  
  
"Please, what do you take me for?" Carter laughed, knocking on the door that connected that room to the neighboring suite. As he backed away still smiling at her, the door opened and two well dressed men dragged in a half conscious O'Connell who looked very worse for wear.  
  
"O'Connell!" she shouted a little out of shock and tried to rush to him, but someone grabbed her arms, holding her tight. "So you knew the whole time?" she stared at Carter, her eyes narrow slits peering from under the loose cascades of hair. "You knew what I was trying to do and still used me."  
  
Carter grinned back smugly at her and she felt herself fill with an overwhelming sense of hatred and loathing.  
  
"Is it any worse than you were planning to do to me?" Carter moved slowly over to his desk and pulled a small bottle out of one of the drawers. "Really, I show up without that information and god only knows what they would do to me."  
  
"Oh, it's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you," Hannah hissed just before stomping on the foot of the person holding her. She turned and punched him in the face, sending him into the wall. Another man came at her, but she sent an elbow into his chest. She once again tried to make her way over to O'Connell, but reeled as a handkerchief pressed firmly against her nose and mouth.  
  
Carter held her tight as the stifling scent of chloroform filled her lungs. She tried desperately to break free, but slowly, the lights began to blur and then, went black. 


	3. Joint Effort

*Disclaimer: The following is a work of pure fiction based off the Universal Pictures film, 'The Mummy'. All copyrights belong to them as well as the character of Rick O'Connell. All other characters are the creation of the author. It is rated PG-13 for languge, violence, and some implied sexual situations.*  
  
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*Oh! What is that pounding?* Hannah slowly awoke to a splitting headache. *Feels like a damned locomotive is going through...* She stopped short as she glanced around and realized that's exactly where she was: in the freight car of a train. There were several large crates and pieces of furniture that were rattling along with the movements of the engine. She reached up to feel her forehead and found for the second time in recent history, that this simple maneuver was posing some difficulty. A little groggy, her eyes followed her arm up to her wrist where a handcuff looped through a slat on the wheel of Carter's car. From there, she followed it to another wrist and down another arm to Rick's face.  
  
"O'Connell!" Hannah shouted, trying to bring him out of what she could only assume was the same haze she had been in.  
  
A slight mumbling groan was her only reply.  
  
"O'Connell!" she shouted again, hitting him with her free hand.  
  
"What?" he yelled, suddenly awake. His eyes searched about the way Hannah's had and evidently, reached the same conclusion. "Great," he said at last, "just great. So much for your plan."  
  
"That's right," Hannah returned sarcastically. "This is all my fault. Just blame me for everything."  
  
"I just did, thanks," O'Connell shot back, "I told you not to underestimate this guy."  
  
"Oh, and I suppose things must have gone so much better on your end seeing as how you're here, too," Hannah grumbled.  
  
"Yeah, well, so neither of us did so hot," O'Connell sat back almost sulking. "I guess it really doesn't matter anyway. We're probably half way to Berlin by now," he added after the stark silence.  
  
"Berlin?" Hannah sat straight up, yanked out of her bout of self pity. "Why would he take us there?"  
  
"To turn us over to the German police and more than likely, a firing squad I would imagine," Rick said with some detached interest. "That's what they usually do with spies."  
  
"What!" Hannah exclaimed, her face growing red with anger. Her arm reflexively pulled towards her, slamming Rick into the car's fender. "After I let him ... and he knew the whole time he was going to ..." she couldn't even bring herself to finish the thought.  
  
"Oh don't worry," O'Connell chimed in curtly, rubbing his shoulder where the fender had left its mark. "I'm sure you can sleep your way out of this one, too."  
  
Hannah's face grew even more bright red and she wondered for a brief moment if she tried hard enough, could she actually spit fire. Instead, she settled for yanking her arm hard again, sending Rick back into the fender with a sharp wince. "Oh, mister holier than thou, like you've never in your life used a little influence ..."  
  
"No I've never..." O'Connell started to shout, but stopped short mid sentence.  
  
"Never?" Hannah asked almost incredulously.  
  
"No never," Rick threw back sarcastically. "You don't exactly get out much growing up around nuns."  
  
"Ok, what's with the nuns?" Hannah sighed settling back down.  
  
O'Connell threw her a sharp look to which she replied, "Well, we might as well pass the time doing something other than trying to kill one another."  
  
The other scratched his head for a moment before finally deciding she was right. "I grew up in an orphanage in Cairo with my little sister," O'Connell said casually leaning back. I left to join the legion as soon as I could. It seemed as good a way as any out of there."  
  
"What about your sister?" Hannah stared at him. "I suppose you just left her there." She noticed as a cloud passed over his pale eyes before he shrugged it off.  
  
"She was killed in an explosion in the suuqs when I was 8," he answered at last.  
  
"Oh," Hannah whispered, regretting not for the first time her lack of tact.  
  
"Yeah well, that's life for you," O'Connell replied, trying far too hard to sound chipper. Looking back to Hannah, he gestured with his free arm, "How 'bout you? How did you come to..." His hand circled the air trying to find the tactful word.  
  
"Screw people for money?" she finished curtly with a raise of her eyebrow. "It's honest enough work," and noting the expression on O'Connell's face, "well, more honest than stealing anyway."  
  
"Granted," Rick said slowly, "but I can think of a lot of careers that I might give a try before I came to that."  
  
Hannah stared at him coldly, "Well, then I suppose you try that sometime because not all of us are lucky enough to end up at an orphanage. I grew up on the streets and seeing as how I'm still alive, I think I did just fine." She continued stare intently at him, fire blazing in her eyes before finally turning away. After that, the two of them just sat there in silence, the rhythm of the train soothing stressed nerves.  
  
They might have continued to sit there if the train hadn't come to a jarring halt. As the brakes screeched to a stop, the two of them went flying forward, snapping the slat on the wheel of the car. They tumbled forward, smashing into an array of objects before finally coming to a stop as they hit a large crate marked 'Fragile' with a loud crash.  
  
"Hope that wasn't anything important," O'Connell muttered, rubbing his head with his free hand.  
  
"God, are we there?" Hannah breathed, a slight note of terror wavering in her voice.  
  
"I don't think we would have stopped like that if it was planned," O'Connell said getting up, pulling Hannah with him. He slid open the door a crack and peering around, started to laughing hysterically.  
  
"What's so funny?" Hannah asked, slightly annoyed, as she tried to look around him.  
  
"There is a cow on the tracks," O'Connell managed, trying to breath again. "I thought that only happened in bad dime store novels."  
  
"Who cares," Hannah said with a sigh of relief. "Thank God for cows."  
  
"Come on," O'Connell replied by grabbing her hand, "if we hurry we can slip away before they even notice what happened."  
  
"No!" Hannah said emphatically, trying to pull away, but not having much luck due to their still attached condition.  
  
"No?" O'Connell stopped dead and raised a quizzical eyebrow.  
  
"No," she repeated, "this may just be another assignment to you, but I have my life riding on this." She looked up at him with determination in her eyes, "I am not going back without those papers." Getting even with Carter was also a nice side agenda, but she didn't have to tell him that.  
  
"You cannot be serious," Rick stared at her in disbelief.  
  
"I am perfectly serious," Hannah returned, her features showing definitely that she was indeed not fooling around. "I am not leaving here without those papers and that means you aren't either."  
  
"Oh no?" O'Connell raised an eyebrow and slug her over his shoulder. Ignoring her struggling, he jumped down out of the car.  
  
"Put me down right now!" Hannah hissed, trying to keep her voice low, but at the same time, ready to rip through his flesh with her nails. "Are you really going to give up that easily? I had given you more credit than that. I guess I was wrong."  
  
"Yep, I guess you were," O'Connell agreed.  
  
"Damnit! Hannah shouted exasperated. "This isn't about us! We had a job to do!"  
  
O'Connell paused for what seemed like an eternity before finally shaking his head and setting her down.  
  
"Fine, but you stay quiet and don't get in the way," he ordered briskly, raising a self-important finger at her.  
  
"I'll do my best," Hannah murmured, rolling her eyes.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
The two of them followed silently through the shadows, staying close against the train.  
  
*Thank God for stubborn cows,* Hannah thought once more to herself. They finally came up against a lit passenger car where a voice inside was shouting out orders in German.  
  
"Carter," Hannah whispered.  
  
"What did I tell you about staying quiet?" O'Connell chided as he reached for his guns, latching onto only open air. "Great, now what am I supposed to use?" he mussed, staring into the empty holsters.  
  
"Your stunning mental prowess?" Hannah smiled with a note of sarcasm.  
  
"Ha ha," O'Connell griped unenthusiastically. Peering inside to make sure Carter was alone, he whispered, "All right, hang on!"  
  
Hannah started to ask why, but before she could, O'Connell threw all his weight against the door. Bursting into the room, he decked Carter with a right-hook before the other knew what happened.  
  
Carter started to sit up in complete shock, but Hannah pressed the heel of her shoe firmly into his throat.  
  
"I told you those come in handy," O'Connell smiled.  
  
"Now," Hannah purred, leaning menacingly over the dumbfounded man, "I believe you have something that belongs to us."  
  
"You really don't think you can possibly pull this off, do you?" Carter choked out.  
  
"Wrong answer," Hannah smirked as she pressed her heel deeper into his throat.  
  
"If I were you, I'd listen to the lady," O'Connell threw in, a mock- sypathetic tone ringing clearly in his voice.  
  
Carter's eyes darted up to a table where the now full leather satchel sat.  
  
"Check it and make sure," Hannah breathed, never taking her eyes off of her prey.  
  
"These are them," O'Connell murmured thumbing through the papers. "And look," he added picking up his guns from next to the satchel, "he even left us a present. Really, you shouldn't have." Not missing a beat, he punched Carter in the face, rendering the man completely unconscious.  
  
"Nice move," Hannah groaned. "Did you even think to wait until we had asked him a few more questions?"  
  
"Like what?" O'Connell stared back blankly at her.  
  
"Like where the key to these are?" Hannah glared, holding up their joined wrists.  
  
O'Connell opened his mouth to answer, but just then, the train once more began to to lurch to life.  
  
"Time to go," he said grabbing Hannah and dragging her to the door which was still swinging on it's hinges. "Ready?" he called over the din of train picking up speed.  
  
"For what?" she shouted back.  
  
"To jump."  
  
"Are you absolutely insane?" Hannah cried.  
  
"Probably," O'Connell shrugged. "Wait for it ...NOW!" he shouted as he jumped, pulling her out with him. Together, they hit the ground and rolled into the surrounding countryside.  
  
Hannah lifted her head wearily as the train screeched off into the distance. How many times could a person almost get killed in one night? "At least we know it can't get any worse," she sighed, but even as she spoke, she felt the first wet drops of rain pelt her face.  
  
"Come on," O'Connell muttered, picking Hannah up off of the ground. "There's got to be a house or a farm or something around here."  
  
"Oh sure," Hannah retorted, her wet hair starting to cling about her shoulders. "We'll just knock on the door and say, 'Excuse us, we were just popping through Germany with some classified information and wondered if you might be able to put us up for the night," she mocked in an attempt at an American accent. "Oh, and by the way, might you have something to take these off!"  
  
"Someone gets cranky when they're wet," O'Connell shot back with a grin. "Come on," he repeated, dragging her through the now swampy field. "I'm not staying out here all night and I guess you're just going to have to come along for the ride."  
  
Hannah was tired, thoroughly drenched, and about to collapse when they finally came across a barn some distance from a farmhouse. O'Connell tried to look around the structure in the pouring rain.  
  
"There is always an axe or two around these places," he called through the noise of the rain as he pulled her inside. After a thorough and exhausted search though, all they could find was a pitchfork, some leather bridles, and a whole lot of hay. O'Connell stood in the middle of the empty barn, scratching the back of his head. "What kind of farm is this? Every farm has an axe."  
  
"Great, just great," Hannah glared back at him, trying to cross her arms. "Oh, there's always an axe or two around these places!" she said trying out her American accent again.  
  
"Hey, you should try being a little more grateful," O'Connell reprimanded sternly. "At least we are out of the rain, aren't we?"  
  
"Thanks for that," Hannah returned with no real enthusiasm as she tried to wring the moister out her hair.  
  
"I got us off that train, didn't I?" O'Connell shot back.  
  
"Let's see," Hannah said placing an innocent finger to her mouth as if truly trying to remember. "Who was it that knocked out Carter before he could tell us where the key was?"  
  
"Oh, sure, one little mistake..."  
  
"One?"  
  
"Yes ONE!"  
  
"Little?"  
  
"Yes LITTLE!"  
  
"You call this little?"  
  
"Oh, you are a real piece of work, do you know that?"  
  
"And you are the most arrogant, conceited, pig-headed..." Hannah stopped short, her mouth otherwise occupied as O'Connell's lips pressed firmly into hers. She leaned in just a little before stopping to realize what she was doing. Remembering herself, she slapped him as he drew back grinning. He continued to grin and after just a few seconds, she locked her free arm about his neck and brought her lips to meet his, almost knocking him over with the force of the motion. The two of them fell into the straw, awkwardly grappling with the other's clothing and fighting for control of their joined hands, but never pausing for a moment. 


	4. On the Road Again

*Disclaimer: The following is a work of pure fiction based off the Universal Pictures film, 'The Mummy'. All copyrights belong to them as well as the character of Rick O'Connell. All other characters are the creation of the author. It is rated PG-13 for languge, violence, and some implied sexual situations.*  
  
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*What the hell was that sound?* Hannah thought as she awoke to a light knocking. Well whoever it was could just go away. She nestled her head once more into O'Connell's chest. *Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!* There it was again! "Go away," she murmured contentedly. Suddenly her eyes flew open. She jumped up, forgetting about the handcuffs, and immediately came crashing back down on O'Connell.  
  
"Good morning," he coughed, a little surprised at the unusual wake-up call.  
  
"Do you hear that?" Hannah whispered, trying to get up again.  
  
"Tell them to come back later," he grinned, pulling her back down on top of him.  
  
"No," Hannah sighed patiently, a small smile poised on the corners of her lips. "That would be the sound of someone chopping wood ... like with an axe?" Again, she tried to stand, but was drawn back.  
  
"Umm," O'Connell murmured, slowly picking pieces of straw out of her hair, "you might want to at least button your shirt first." He ducked impulsively as she threw his pants at him. "What? It was just a suggestion. You don't have to if you really don't want to."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you'd love that," Hannah muttered as she dug through the hay, trying to find the various articles of clothing. "You and about half the the German countryside."  
  
"Here, let me help you with that," O'Connell jumped in, suddenly more accommodating.  
  
They had to take turns since their two hands were still acting as one. Hannah hurried to dress as quickly as she could which was an interesting feat. How they had managed last night, she wasn't quite sure. "It's all your's," she said at last, referring to the hand connected to her own.  
  
O'Connell hurried himself and as soon as he was done, they crept to the barn door, opening it just a crack. In the distance, they could make out the form of a man gathering up a stack of wood. After a moment, he turned and headed back towards the farmhouse.  
  
Both O'Connell and Hannah were out of the barn in a flash, scrambling over each other as they ran for the stump where the axe had been left sticking out.  
  
With a little effort, O'Connell was able to pry it out of its resting place. "Kneel down," he motioned as he tried to arrange the chain flat against the stump.  
  
"Are you sure you know what you are doing with that thing?" Hannah hesitated as O'Connell brought the axe up over his head.  
  
"Yeah," he flinched at the sudden interruption. "I'm sure ... just ... stay really still..."  
  
Hannah closed her eyes tight as the axe came down with a loud *Thwak!*  
  
Tentatively, she opened one eye. Ok, no blood, that was a good sign. One end of the handcuffs was dangling about her wrist like a bracelet. With a sigh of relief, she opened the other eye.  
  
"God damned..." O'Connell muttered to himself and he stood hunched over.  
  
"Rick!" Hannah ran around the stump to him.  
  
O'Connell held up his arm, but at the end of his sleeve, there was no hand. Hannah gasped in horror for a moment before he popped the hand back out of his sleeve with a grin.  
  
"Damn you O'Connell!" Hannah muttered, smacking him upside the head before turning on her heel and walking off.  
  
"What?" he cried innocently, the grin growing wider as he followed after her. "Umm, just out of curiosity, do you have any idea where we are going?"  
  
"Well..." Hannah paused looking around. She hadn't really given the matter much thought. "If we can find our way back to the train tracks, we can follow them back the way we came."  
  
"And that will be the first place they'll look for us," O'Connell stopped directly behind her. "That train hit Berlin hours ago and they aren't going to be happy when Carter is the only thing on board."  
  
"Well, what do you suggest?" Hannah snapped, turning to face him.  
  
"Well," he began, "If there is a house, there is probably a road out there somewhere. Maybe even one with road signs that will tell us which way to go."  
  
"Fine," Hannah grumbled turning back towards the house.  
  
"Fine," O'Connell repeated holding up his hands.  
  
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"Ok, so maybe this wasn't the perfect idea," O'Connell wondered aloud. They had found a signpost just like he had planned. The only problem was, it was written in German.  
  
"This way," Hannah muttered briskly.  
  
"Wait, wait," O'Connell put his hands on his hips, "how do you know?"  
  
"Because, according to that sign," Hannah sighed, "this is the closest way to the Rhine. We can follow that back to France."  
  
"Hold it," O'Connell raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you can read German?"  
  
Hannah shrugged as she turned down the road, "So, I've been around a little."  
  
O'Connell opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and simply followed her. A sound in the distance made him turn his head. He knew the telltale dust clouds all too well and he pulled Hannah off to the side and into a ditch just as three cars came speeding by.  
  
"O'Connell, what the hell..."  
  
He put his hand over Hannah's mouth as the head car stopped and Carter opened the door. Taking a look at the road sign, he shouted a few orders to the cars behind him and they all took off again down the road towards the Rhine.  
  
"So, that will be the first place they check? Let's follow the road?" Hannah mocked in her American accent.  
  
"All right, so it was a close second," O'Connell muttered getting up and dusting himself off. Hannah was a bit surprised as he offered a hand to help her up as well.  
  
"I guess now they will be waiting for us," she murmured, leaning on him for support as she got up.  
  
"Most likely," O'Connell shrugged casually.  
  
"Great," Hannah shivered, "as if this weren't fun enough already."  
  
"I don't know," O'Connell grinned smugly, slipping an arm around her, "you have to admit, it has been a little fun."  
  
Hannah turned to face him, still not knowing quite what to think of this arrogant young man. He caught her in his gaze and she couldn't look away. God, those eyes ... she could look into those eyes forever. Somehow, between jumping from trains, hiding in barns, and running from German operatives, she didn't know how much more she could take. She clutched O'Connell a little tighter, holding on as if somehow he were an anchor to reality.  
  
"Hey there," he whispered, "hey," O'Connell ran his hand softly through her hair. "Hey, come on, you can't give up yet," he smiled as he held up her chin. "I'd look awfully foolish trying to dig those heels into Carter's neck."  
  
"I'm glad this is all so amusing to you," Hannah scoffed. She was too frustrated to fight against the arm holding her, though.  
  
"No, it's not, I know," O'Connell whispered soothingly as he continued to stroke her hair. She did a good job of putting up a front, but even he could tell it was wearing down. He just kept his arm around her in the growing dusk. It was better they waited until it was dark to keep moving anyhow.  
  
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Night had long since fallen by the time they reached town, the dark and ashen rooftops looming ominously on the horizon. The cobblestone roads formed a hushed rhythm under their feet. Hannah had a sudden longing to be back in the desolate countryside with its quiet dirt paths.  
  
The liquid black of the the Rhine lapped the banks near the edge of the city. The gentle push and pull of the clay like waters held an almost hypnotic quality, almost relaxing but for the fact they knew what chance lay before them.  
  
The two of them followed the river along the shadows all through the night until the dawn began to break pink around them. They finally stopped, hiding in the hollow of an old oak. Hannah settled into Rick's shoulder and found that sleep came much easier than she would have thought. When she awoke, the sun was well overhead.  
  
"How are you holding up?" O'Connell asked running a hand over her cheek.  
  
"Just fine, thank you very much," Hannah snapped back, pulling away slightly. It was not within her nature to break down even so little as she had the previous night and she wanted to make it clear it would not be happening again.  
  
"Ok, sorry I asked," O'Connell grumbled, withdrawing his hand and letting her head which had up till then still been resting on his shoulder, fall against the trunk of the tree.  
  
Hannah glared up at him as she rubbed the sore spot. Her head had taken an awful lot of abuse within the last week. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to ruin your big gallant effort at compassion," she sneered.  
  
"Listen, I have taken just about all I am going to take out of you..."  
  
"Oh, you've taken all you can take of me?" Hannah turned to face him in disbelief.  
  
"Yeah, you and your 'I don't need help from anyone' dogma," O'Connell pushed, trying to imitate Hannah's somewhat confused accent.  
  
"Are you making fun of the way I talk?" Hannah asked incredulously.  
  
"Make fun of that mixed-up piece of work? I don't have to, you do a great job of it yourself!"  
  
"And I suppose there is nothing wrong with the way you talk?"  
  
"No, actually, I know this may come as quite a shock, but there isn't."  
  
"Damned American..." Hannah trailed off as somehow their lips seemed to find themselves joined again. She surrendered to it for just a moment before pulling away, taking a few short breaths. "God ... we have got to stop doing this!"  
  
"Doing what?" O'Connell looked at her a little confused.  
  
"Don't you see?" Hannah repeated emphatically. "Whenever we start fighting, it eventually leads up to ... this!"  
  
"Ok, so we won't fight," O'Connell said placidly, kissing her on the neck.  
  
*Damn him!* "No ... we won't fight..." Hannah whispered, giving in a little against her own better judgment. "Umm," she managed after a few seconds, trying to collect herself, "how about we wait until we are back in a country where not *everyone* is out to kill us?"  
  
O'Connell sighed backing off. "Yeah, though that's easier said than done, though," he added with a grin.  
  
"Which part? The waiting or the finding a country where not everyone is out to kill us?" Hannah asked with a sly smile.  
  
O'Connell's grin broadened.  
  
The sound of gunfire brought them both jarringly back to reality.  
  
"How much farther is it to the front, do you think?" Hannah wondered aloud.  
  
"Not too far, I'd imagine," O'Connell muttered, looking into the distance. "The German lines have pushed farther into France or we could just hop across the river now. We'll wait till it's dark again and then keep going." With a touch of remorse, he added, "Trust me, you'll notice the lines of the front when we see them."  
  
As if in answer, a faint blast could be heard not too far off, followed by another. Hannah twitched slightly at the sound, but O'Connell tactfully ignored it. It all seemed too far away, and somehow, too close.  
  
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The explosions grew louder with every step. Even the ground seemed to reverberate with every impact.  
  
It still bothered her, but Hannah refrained from flinching. Every instinct in her body told her to turn around and go the other way, but in an odd way, it was also exciting. Even as they crept quietly along, hardly daring to breathe, she felt herself filled with a kind of anticipation she hadn't know existed.  
  
"Up there," O'Connell whispered in a barely audible tone. "That's where we can cross."  
  
Hannah looked to where he was pointing. The river narrowed slightly and the fortifications from the edges of the German encampment slowed the waters. "How deep do you think it is?" she whispered back.  
  
"Dunno, it's hard to say," O'Connell shrugged at first, then turned to her suddenly. "Why?"  
  
"Well," Hannah replied, carefully choosing her words. "It's just that I've never ... had the chance ... to exactly try ... moving through water ..."  
  
"You can't swim?" O'Connell asked in a deadpan voice.  
  
"I didn't say that," Hannah retorted defensively, "I've just never had the opportunity to try."  
  
"Great," O'Connell muttered, "just great." Shaking his head, he tried to work out a new plan in his mind. "All right, just grab onto my neck and whatever happens, don't let go."  
  
"I've got a better idea," a familiar voice echoed from out of the darkness. "You could both come with me."  
  
The two of them spun around to face Carter, his gun raised. Him, and about a dozen German soldiers. Hannah's eyes narrowed and O'Connell's hands went instinctively to his guns.  
  
"I really wouldn't try that if I were you," Carter said with a short laugh.  
  
"That's why you aren't me," Rick growled, pulling out the revolver's like lightning. Before he could even fire a shot, though, Carter emptied a few rounds and O'Connell fell backwards into the river.  
  
"Rick!" Hannah shouted as she frantically searched the waters with her eyes. No, this wasn't fair. They couldn't have made it this far for nothing. The ripples that formed where he had fallen began to grow still and after a few minutes, there was no sign at all that anything had broken the surface.  
  
"Now that that is settled," Carter gloated as he shoved the barrel of his pistol into Hannah's back, "where are those documents?"  
  
Hannah's eyes grew even more narrow and filled with hatred. "At the bottom of the Rhine, you God damned son of a bitch," she hissed, not caring much for the that could be lodged into her spine at any moment.  
  
"Charming as always," Carter sneered, pulling Hannah's arms behind roughly behind her. "You'll remember these," he added with a slight grin, locking a new pair of handcuffs around her wrists. "Captain, have your team dredge the waters here. Do whatever you want with the body, but I want that satchel."  
  
"You complete bastard," Hannah spat out.  
  
"Always the flatterer," Carter continued to grin menacingly as he took her chin firmly in his hand. "Well, since you have no other plans, I must insist that you accompany me." He then yanked her up by the loose cascades of hair covering her face. "Come along then."  
  
Hannah tried to hold her ground and gave a last look of contempt at the still waters, but Carter was in no mood for it. He grabbed her by the neck and dragged her towards the German camp. 


	5. End of the Line

*Disclaimer: The following is a work of pure fiction based off the Universal Pictures film, 'The Mummy'. All copyrights belong to them as well as the character of Rick O'Connell. All other characters are the creation of the author. It is rated PG-13 for languge, violence, and some implied sexual situations.*  
  
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"I'll ask you one last time..." Carter growled in a dark and foreboding tone before Hannah cut him off.  
  
"And I will tell you one last time, I don't know a damned thing!" she yelled back, her arms straining at the chair to which she was currently attached. "Why on earth else do you think they would have sent me? I think it's obvious it wasn't because of my unparalleled skill," she sneered, tossing her heed back. "They sent me in because if it didn't work, they weren't loosing anything. They sent me because I was expendable."  
  
"I suppose your qualifications depend on which skill you you are referring to," Carter grinned, leaning in close.  
  
Hannah spat in his face, for which she was repaid with a strong slap.  
  
"You know, it really is too bad," Carter muttered, dusting himself off. "If you were going to die for something, you really should have known what it was."  
  
Hannah's thoughts went back to O'Connell. She wondered briefly if he knew what he had died for. Somehow, she had a feeling he did. He was one of the lucky ones. "How about to keep rats like you out of the world?" she suddenly stared up at Carter, her narrow eyes burning.  
  
He moved to slap her again, but stopped himself. "I don't suppose it really matters," he shrugged, turning around. "They are putting you in front of the firing squad at dawn. A rather ungodly hour, I know, but they like to be very precise with these things." Carter stepped back in front of her, placing his hand on the arms of the chair. "It's a shame you didn't have more to bargain with."  
  
"Go to Hell," Hannah hissed. It was really funny how impending doom could liberate a person. She knew she was already dead and that gave her the freedom to say anything she damn well pleased, not that she had ever shown great restraint in her choice of words.  
  
"I'll see you there," Carter grinned running a finger down her cheek.  
  
Hannah managed to latch onto his finger with her teeth and held on tight.  
  
"God damned bitch!" Carter shouted, finally managing to shake her loose.  
  
*Hmm, a lot of people seemed to think that,* Hannah thought briefly to herself. They were probably right.  
  
"You know," Carter glowered, wrapping a handkerchief around his bloody finger, "I was feeling a little torn, but no, I'm really going to enjoy watching you die."  
  
"Yeah, you and everyone else I've ever met," Hannah murmured to herself.  
  
"I don't know," Carter smirked, "I get the feeling that gentleman you were with ... Rick wasn't it? I get the feeling he might be disappointed. Too bad he's already dead."  
  
The self satisfied grin Carter then gave her was filled with all the evil Hannah had ever know up till that moment. Against her own will, her eyes filled with pain and she had to look away. Right now, she didn't care if she was dying, she just wanted Carter to go away.  
  
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The sun was just starting to mount over the rows of tents as the men came to collect Hannah. Carter was right, they were precise. Whatever else happened, she had made up her mind he was not going to see her break down. Something like fear knotted in her stomach, but she set her chin defiantly and followed the men onto the field.  
  
Her heart beat faster and faster in her chest as they led her up to a wooden post planted in the ground. One man motioned to the other and he unlocked the restraints and began to fasten Hannah's arms around the pole.  
  
She was trying so hard to hold on to her dignity, but in the end, she just couldn't help herself and ground the heel of her shoe into the soldier's foot.  
  
"Oww!" came the soft cry in a familiar accent. "I'm almost tempted not to give you this," he whispered, thrusting a key into her palm.  
  
"O'Connell," Hannah breathed hardly daring to move her lips.  
  
"Just be ready to move when those riffles fire," he whispered limping away.  
  
Hannah wanted to ask him what the hell he meant, but didn't have time as the lieutenant raised his hand.  
  
"Betriebsbereit!" he called as she fumbled, trying to get the key into the locks.  
  
"Ziel!"  
  
The first lock clicked.  
  
"Feuer!"  
  
All at once, the riffles fired, but nothing came out except for smoke.  
  
"This way!" O'Connell called out over the din.  
  
As the soldiers still looked at each other confused, Hannah followed the direction of O'Connell's voice.  
  
"After them!" Carter shouted.  
  
Hannah gasped as O'Connell suddenly grabbed her arm. "You're alive..." she whispered.  
  
"Not for long if we don't keep moving," O'Connell muttered looking hurriedly behind them. He pulled her along as riffles blasted, this time actually firing bullets. "Now give me your shirt!" he yelled, removing the jacket he had borrowed from the German camp, he tossing it at Hannah.  
  
"My what?" the other exclaimed in disbelief.  
  
"You heard me," O'Connell repeated. "Unless you want these guys to start firing at us, too!" he shouted, pointing to the front lines of the allied troops they were racing towards.  
  
Hannah awkwardly switched her once white shirt for the jacket as they ran, trying not to loose her balance. O'Connell grabbed the shirt from her and fixing it to the end of a riffle he had also borrowed, swung it high above them. The guns which had been aimed at them lowered and diving over the barbed wire, the two of them slid into the trench.  
  
"You're ... alive..." Hannah managed between gasps of air as she crawled towards O'Connell. Then, as if remembering herself, she hit him in the arm. "What the hell was all of that!"  
  
"Hey, I just saved your life, remember!" O'Connell laughed defensively.  
  
"But Carter shot you! I saw you fall into the Rhine!" Hannah added emphatically.  
  
"Nooo ......" O'Connell began slowly. "Lucky for us, Carter may be quick, but he has really bad aim. I just pretended he had shot me and jumped into the river. It seemed the only way out. I thought for sure someone would realize if I were dead, my body would probably float up somewhere. Still, I guess it's just as well they didn't," he grinned.  
  
"What about those guns?" Hannah glared.  
  
O'Connell's smile broadened. "Funny how much charcoal looks like gun powder."  
  
Hannah stared back, open mouthed. "You risked my life on charcoal! Why you reckless, arrogant ... " but she didn't take the time to finish. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his.  
  
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"Well, they got a little damp sir, but here they are," O'Connell said, tossing the leather satchel onto Major-General Renaut's desk.  
  
The general sifted through the papers quickly before putting them back into the satchel and into a safe by his desk. "Good work," he nodded. "Remind me again, what rank were you, O'Connell?"  
  
"Sergeant, sir"  
  
"Yes," the general coughed, "quite right, well, how does Lieutenant sound?"  
  
"Thank you, sir," O'Connell replied. An awkward silence followed and at last, he broke in. "Umm, what about Leone, sir?"  
  
The general looked over to where Hannah sat. She could feel his eyes searching her, as if trying to discern some great, unknown truth. She doubted highly he was going to find it.  
  
"Yes, well, that does pose an interesting problem. The fact remains, you did almost kill an officer of the Foreign Legion."  
  
"But you said," Hannah began defensively. She would be damned if she had gone through all of that for nothing.  
  
"What I said," the general chose his words carefully, "was I could make an argument. There are certain others who would make the opposing argument."'  
  
"Sir," O'Connell jumped between Hannah and the general as her nails began to dig into the arms of the chair.  
  
"However," the general interjected loudly, "however, it is my opinion that matters. I think it has been demonstrated satisfactorily that you can prove useful to us alive. It will all be strictly unofficial, of course ... maybe we could call you a foreign advisor, or some such thing ... Lieutenant!" and after a short silence, "That would be you, O'Connell."  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
"Go help her set up someplace for living quarters. Perhaps the old storehouse."  
  
"This way, Miss Leone," O'Connell gestured grandly.  
  
Once they were outside, Hannah elbowed him hard in the stomach.  
  
"Oww! what was that for?" he asked, a little shocked.  
  
"You know, Rick, I really hate that name," Hannah sighed, her hands on her hips.  
  
"That is no way to talk to your superior officer," O'Connell beamed. "You can address me as sir, or as Lieutenant O'Connell."  
  
"Oh, address this, Richard," Hannah muttered, throwing a fist at his face which he easily ducked.  
  
"Hey, careful," O'Connell laughed. "You almost hit me."  
  
"That was the idea!"  
  
"You know, you could really benefit from a few lessons in manners."  
  
"Oh, I have half a mind to..."  
  
"That's right," O'Connell nodded smugly, "you have half a mind."  
  
Hannah threw another fist at him, which he caught and held her wrists firmly in front of him. They stood not saying a word, but intently glaring at each other for quite some time.  
  
"Is anyone around here out to kill us?" Hannah questioned at last, raising a curious eyebrow.  
  
"Besides us? Not a one," O'Connell grinned, pulling her inside the storehouse and closing the door behind them. 


End file.
